


Or it Could be the Wine

by sbdrag



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, i just wanted a fic where dorian drunkenly serenades cullen, instead it turned into this, sigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was, Dorian reflected, a lovely night. The stars shone down from the sky like the eyes of compassion spirits, lighting up the darkness and making it seem full of hope. A warm breeze chased away the chill of the night, almost like the breath of the Maker himself wrapping around his children in an embrace. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Or it could be the wine. The odds were pretty even right about now.</i>
</p>
<p>Dorian gets drunk and serenades Commander Cullen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or it Could be the Wine

It was, Dorian reflected, a _lovely_ night. The stars shone down from the sky like the eyes of compassion spirits, lighting up the darkness and making it seem full of hope. A warm breeze chased away the chill of the night, almost like the breath of the Maker himself wrapping around his children in an embrace.

 

Or it could be the wine. The odds were pretty even right about now.

 

Perhaps it was the night, or perhaps the inebriation, that caused Dorian to stumble out of the tavern and stare up at the sky in awe. Out here, on the top of the mountain, it sometimes felt like they really were holding back the sky. All the sparkling, glittering, colorful swirls up there, resting on the peak of the mountain. Or some kind of spell, some great barrier holding it all back.

 

Sometimes, looking up at the sky in all its glory, Dorian believed that maybe there really were miracles in the world.

 

He chuckled to himself. It was, all things considered, ironic for a man that didn’t believe in miracles to throw his lot in with a group that seemed as desperate as the Inquisition. With everything against them, winning seemed like a miracle. But then, the Inquisitor had already done the impossible by sealing the Breach, so why not?

 

Buoyed by this thought (or was it the wine? The line was becoming blurrier), Dorian straightened from where he had leaned against the wall of the Herald’s Rest. Smoothing his clothes and setting his shoulders, he strode purposefully across the courtyard and up to the battlements. He could feel the flush against his cheeks (that was definitely the wine) as he came to the door of the Commander’s tower. He sniffed, not noticing that, for once, there was no light in the window.

 

So Dorian let himself in without so much as knocking. Only to be stopped by the sight of the dark room, and the lack of Commander at his desk.

 

It took the wind right out of his sails. Of course this would be the night, of all nights, that Cullen would actually be asleep instead of up and working. So much for miracles.

 

Instead of leaving, however, Dorian found himself shutting the door behind himself gently. He eyed the Commander’s loft apprehensively, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently awakened the man. He knew as well as anyone how hard the Commander worked, and how well deserved any sleep he managed to get was.

 

So, traipsing quietly across the room, he went to the Commander’s desk. Glancing at the loft every now and again, he sat in the man’s chair, and examined the papers left half finished. Most of it was boring; troop movements, the status of the new recruits, supply requisitions… but then something caught his eye. It was a correspondence between Leliana and the Commander (really, it was silly to keep calling him that, in his own mind, but it helped him remind himself to keep a friendly distance from the man), including some notes from Josephine and the Inquisitor herself.

 

_I have received a formal request for an audience from Magister Halward Pavus. As I know little of the man, I leave the decision up to you._

_-J_

_No._

_-H_

_Inquisitor, while I understand your reservations, we have few allies in tevinter as it is. Would it not benefit us to at least see the man?_

_-L_

_We have the allies we need. I won’t have the Magister here in Skyhold. If he wants to meet somewhere else, fine._

_-H_

Dorian felt himself smiling. He had no doubts as to why the Inquisitor was blocking his father from coming to Skyhold, and it warmed his heart to read it for himself. Although it rankled him that no one had come to ask him about it, but he knew Adaar well enough to know she hadn’t done it to be malicious. More likely, she hadn’t wanted to make him revisit old memories. Redcliffe had been less than a month ago, after all.

 

_Inquisitor, if you meet with the Magister, it must be here, in front of our allies. Otherwise, they will believe you are conspiring with Tevinter in secret, regardless of the truth._

_-J_

_Josephine is correct. If you are willing to meet, what is the problem with him coming to Skyhold? He’s Dorian’s father, isn’t he? Shouldn’t we try to use that?_

_-L_

Dorian scowled, although he couldn’t exactly hold it against Leliana. She was a spymaster, and furthermore a bard. She was just playing the Game; it wasn’t personal. Still, the correspondence was doing well to sour his mood.

 

_I won’t have him at Skyhold. Invite our allies to come along if you’re worried about how things will look, but he can’t come here._

_-H_

_If you insist. But it would be easier if you would just tell us why you do not want the Magister here._

_-J_

_Are you worried about an attack?_

_-C_

 

Dorian smiled. Of course the Commander would take the practical approach. It was so like him. He spared a look up at the loft again. There was no sign of movement, so he read on.

 

_We are well prepared for such an eventuality. There is no need to be worried in that case. I would also assign agents to watch over Dorian personally, in case the Magister tried anything untoward._

_-L_

 

And that actually gave Dorian pause. He had already guessed that the advisors, at the very least, knew about what had happened at Redcliffe. The Inquisitor would have had to make a report, and he could hardly hold it against her to be honest. It was that Leliana, the spymaster, a woman he hardly knew, had offered, no, already prepared to protect him, the Tevinter pariah, without  a second thought. It was… oddly touching.

 

_What do you mean? Why would you need agents on Dorian?_

_-C_

 

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up. What was this now? Did the Commander not know about Redcliffe? He read on with a surreptitious look at the loft.

 

_I have to wonder as well. Is this because of what went on at Redcliffe? You have not given us any details, Inquisitor. We cannot prepare for the things you refuse to tell us._

_-J_

_L, while I appreciate your offer, I don’t appreciate you bringing these things up like this. What happened in redcliffe is Dorian’s personal business, and the Inquisition doesn’t need to know. I’m not worried about his protection; Dorian is an accomplished mage and can handle himself, and more than that, I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I won’t have Magister Pavus here because Skyhold is Dorian’s home, at least for now, and if he hasn’t invited his father here, it means he isn’t ready to have him here. Skyhold is our new Haven, and I intend to keep it that way._

_-H_

_Dorian closed his eyes, needing a moment. He’d been wrong. Adaar hadn’t told them anything. Leliana had probably sent a spy along, or found out some other way, but Adaar had kept it to herself. Between them. And now… now she was protecting him again, worrying over his well being. Shaking his head at his own sentimentality, he ignored the read hot prickling at his eyes. It was probably the wine, after all._

_Sometimes we have to sacrifice our comfort for the greater good. Inquisitor, I understand your reservations, but we cannot put the good of one man over the good of the Inquisition._

_-L_

_How can you say that? Dorian has worked just as hard for the Inquisition as any of us have, and at greater cost than some of us. He goes out in the field was the Inquisitor regularly, and researches magic we know nothing about for hours on end. I know the rest of you have seen it stays up just as late as any of us, as flippant as he may be about it. I stand with the Inquisitor. I may not know what happened at Redcliffe, but if Magister Pavus’s presence at Skyhold is going to make Dorian uncomfortable, let them meet somewhere else. We owe him that much._

_-C_

It took Dorian reading the Commander’s response, the last on the correspondence, three times before he realized it was, in fact, the Commander that had written it. Slowly, he let the paper drop back onto the desk, and stared at it. He felt his eyes slowly drift upwards, the hot, prickly sensation growing stronger as he regarded the silent loft.

 

He knew that the Commander at least tolerated him. Maybe even liked him. Their chess games showed that much. And he’d come here tonight to flirt and tease, a little more boldly, because he’d been feeling bold. But the Commander had been asleep and Dorian had thought it was some kind of sign. And yet…

 

And yet the man had defended him. He didn’t even know what was going on, and he had defended him. With only the Inquisitor’s word to go on. Well, not only that. He clearly had been paying Dorian more attention than the mage had realized. He wondered just how much attention, then shook his head with a hoarse, quiet laugh. He put a hand up, covering his eyes, finding his cheeks wet, to his own surprise.

 

It was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. A Tevinter mage being championed by a Qunari and a former Templar. He didn’t deserve it. Hadn’t done anything to deserve this. All he’d done was run away from his problems and joined the Inquisition to try and fix the problems of his countrymen. He was selfish, and vain, and tended  and didn’t deserve these people’s kindness.

 

Finding ink and quill, he scribbled his own note at the bottom, under the Commander’s.

 

_Let the bastard come._

_-Dorian Pavus_

 

He signed with a flourish, then rose a little unsteadily. He was not drunk enough for all these emotions. He usually wasn’t drunk enough for most of his emotions, but he especially wasn’t drunk enough for this.

 

So, sending a sardonic salute up to the Commander’s loft, he left to return to the Herald’s Rest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Much later, much drunker, and with much less aplomb, Dorian burst through the door to the Commander’s tower once again. He’d gotten well and runk this time, and Bull had walked him to the door, suggesting he go to bed. Instead, without the reasonable and steadying influence of the Qunari, he’d found himself wobbling across the courtyard and up to the battlements (a concerned but slightly amused soldier had helped him up the stairs, and Dorian was almost certain the man had wished him and the Commander a well night, but that could have been the wine). And now here he was, once again, in the dark tower where the Commander was probably asleep.

 

Dorian stumbled across to the man’s desk, leaning on it heavily. He very carefully turned himself around, until he was facing the loft. He looked up, blinking to clear his swimming vision (it didn’t help).

 

Then, without much thought, he burst into song.

 

It was loud, and, even with his stringent training, off key. It was a love song; one about Archon Darinius and Queen Rathana. It was all rubbish, of course; the Queen had married Darinius for political reasons after he’d united the Neromenians and Tevinter to add Qarinus peacefully, but the idea behind the ballad was nice enough.

 

It wasn’t long before the Commander himself appeared, hair curly and generally disheveled, looking over the side of the loft incredulously. Dorian finished his rendition of _Darinius and the Queen_ , then bowed, almost falling over in the effort. He straightened, grinning up at the Commander.

 

“Good morning! Well, no, I actually don’t know if it’s morning, but it might be,” he said. Cullen eyed the ladder to his loft, then looked back to Dorian.

 

“What in Andraste’s name was that?” Cullen asked, softly. A soldier had come to the door, grinning from ear to ear, and saluted the Commander as he closed the door. Cullen nodded at him, irritated at being woken up. He’d been having a nightmare, though, and Dorian’s terrible singing had been an almost welcome distraction. He looked back to the grinning, clearly drunk mage.

 

“What was what? Oh, yes, the song,” he said, jumping comically when the desk was further back than he had expected. All his movements were sloppy and exaggerated, and it was so different from the man’s usual natural grace that Cullen found his irritation melting away into amusement. “It was a ballad. A Tevinter ballad.”

 

“I gathered that from the Tevene,” Cullen replied. Even as drunk as he was, Dorian could quite admire the view of a shirtless, curly hair Commander.

 

“You’re breathtaking, you know that?” Dorian asked. “Absolutely gorgeous. You should wear your hair like that more often. It’s a good look for you.”

 

“It… it’s not exactly… dignified,” Cullen replied, feeling the pleased blush warm his face. Honestly, he was used to Dorian’s flirting by now, but this was by and far more straightforward. Dorian grinned again.

 

“It does go further down,” he said, eyeing the Commander’s chest appreciatively. Cullen buried his head in his hands, feeling the blush grow deeper.

 

“Maker’s breath,” he said. He peeked down at Dorian, then sighed and let the hand drop. “Dorian what are you doing here?”

 

“Serenading you,” the mage said. “Was it not obvious? Oh, right, you don’t speak Tevene. The song? Ballad, actually. It’s a love song. Ancient thing, about an Archon and a Queen. Rubbish, really, but it has all those things about love and beauty and I thought it apropos for a serenade. You are quite good looking, you know that?”

 

“But not as good looking as you?” Cullen asked, feeling his eyebrow twitch up.

 

“Naturally,” Dorian said, grin turning impish. “I’m not really sure what to do at this point. I’ve never serenaded anyone, you know. Needed to keep things secret all the time. Besides, it wasn’t like I ever cared about anyone enough to _want_ to serenade them, so it’s a rather moot point. Do you have any ideas, Commander?”

 

“Cullen,” the man replied, shaking his head. “Why don’t you come up here, for starters?”

 

“Oh, well, if you think it wise,” Dorian said, swaying away from the desk. Cullen watched him was apprehension, but the mage appeared to manage the ladder with little trouble. Still, Cullen was there to pull him up the rest of the way. In Dorian’s unsteady state, he fell against the Commander. Cullen was expecting it, however, and kept them from both falling backwards. Dorian wrapped his arms around the Commander’s waist, still smiling.

 

“And what to do now?” he asked. Cullen smiled back, gently.

 

“With as drunk as you clearly are?” he asked. “Bed.”

 

“Oh, am I to be sharing a bed with the Commander?” Dorian asked, fluttering his lashes. Cullen laughed.

 

“No,” he said. “No Commanders up here. Just Cullen.”  
  


“Mm, well, I hope ‘just Cullen’ is as devastatingly handsome as the Commander,” Dorian said. “Or I shall be terribly put out.”

 

“I think he’ll manage,” Cullen said, arching a brow as his lips twitched into a smile. He was still blushing, and the smile tugged at his scar, drawing Dorian’s attention. And, before he’d quite realized it, he’d leaned up and captured those lips in a soft kiss. Cullen didn’t even flinch; he returned it, pulling the mage against him gently. Dorian hummed a little, then pulled away.

 

“You’re blushing,” the Commander said, eyes heavy and voice soft.

 

“Must be the wine…” Dorian replied, moving back just enough to squeeze him arm between them. He reached up, cupping Cullen’s jaw, tracing his lower lip with his thumb. He seemed entranced, and Cullen chuckled.

 

“If you say so,” he said, and started pulling the mage backwards. Dorian made a small noise of agreement, barely noticing being led. Cullen had him sit on the bed, and the alcohol was rapidly catching up with him. Dorian leaned back on his hands as Cullen took off his boots, setting them off to the side. Then he started climbing into bed, Dorian watching and blinking as his limbs grew heavier.

 

With a soft smile, Cullen leaned over and gave the mage another chaste kiss, then pulled him into the bed. Dorian sighed softly, settling into the Commander’s arms contentedly. The man was very warm, and Cullen chuckled as he pulled up blankets and furs against the cold. He pulled the mage close, placing a kiss on the man’s forehead and letting his lips rest there as he went back to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Commander Cullen!”

 

Cullen shot up in bed with a start. Dorian groaned at the movement, head pounding as he buried it against pillows.

 

“Sorry,” Cullen said, scrambling out of bed to look over the edge of his loft. Cassandra was glaring up at him, with an amused guard next to her.

 

“Sorry, ser, she just came through,” the woman said. Cullen wondered what had her so amused, but then he knew. With a blush at the thought of how many soldiers must know about Dorian’s performance last night, he focused on Cassandra.

 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I understand. Is something wrong, Cassandra?”

 

“Other than you being hours late to training your men, who have started without you?” the woman demanded. She crossed her arms, and now that he was looking, he realized she was also amused. Maker’s breath, how many people knew?

 

“By Andraste,” he said, only then noticing how the light was pouring through his ceiling. “I’ll be right there, just give me time to get dressed.”

 

“And tell Dorian I’m looking for him while you’re at it,” Adaar said, grinning as he poked her head in the door. There was a muffled groan from behind Cullen, which made the Inquisitor laugh. “Or I suppose he may have figured it out.”

 

“I’ll make sure he gets the message,” Cullen said, a hand coming up to rub his eyes. This was going to be an interesting day, he could already tell.

 

“And hurry up!” Cassandra said, before leaving with a huff. Adaar waved as she went on her way, and the soldier saluted smartly. Cullen waved her off, then turned to face his bed.

 

Dorian was peaking at him from under a pillow, furs and blankets still wrapped around him. He couldn’t see the man’s face clearly, and walked over to sit on the bed.

 

“Well, that’s one way to start the morning,” he said, trying to draw the man out.

 

“Crippling embarrassment, a truly awful hangover and a night full of regrets?” Dorian asked. “Yes, it certainly is.”

 

“I don’t know,” Cullen replied. “I rather liked your performance.”

 

“Please don’t bring that up,” Dorian said. “I’m trying to remember why it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

 

“You were considerably drunk at the time,” Cullen said, arching a brow. “And telling me, in various ways, how attractive I am.”

 

“Andraste’s _ass_ ,” Dorian said, groaning and pulling the pillow over his head completely. “And you invited me into bed with you?”

 

“What are you suppose to do when an attractive drunk man serenades and compliments you in the middle of the night?” Cullen asked.

 

“Kick him out before he makes more of a fool of himself, like any decent person,” Dorian said. Then he paused. “You find me attractive?”

 

Instead of answering, Cullen surprised the mage by pulling away the pillow and leaning down to kiss him. Dorian made a muffled noise of surprise, and blinked, wide eyed, as Cullen pulled away. The Commander found it quite liked the sleep disheveled look on the mage, and hoped to see it more often.

 

“Yes, I find you attractive,” he said, blushing even so. “And smart, and funny. Dorian, I like you.”

 

Dorian made a noise that could only be classified as a squeak and blushed. No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. This gorgeous, brave, good-hearted man was not supposed to like him. Him, the vain, selfish pariah that took out his anger in snippy comments to others and cheated at cards and chess. Almost as if he knew that Dorian was over thinking things, Cullen shook his head.

 

“You’re blushing,” he said, with a grin. “And you can’t blame it on the wine this time.”

 

“... you’re insufferable, you know that?” Dorian said, turning to put his back to Cullen. The Commander laughed, and leaned over to kiss the mage on the cheek.

 

“And devastatingly handsome,” he agreed. Dorian huffed, and Cullen chuckled as he rose to finally get dressed. “And breathtaking. And gorgeous.”

 

Dorian listened to the Commander getting dressed, still feeling heat on his face. This was not right. He’d been drunk. He’d woken the man up in the middle of the night with a terrible love ballad. He’d gushed about finding him attractive. None of that should have led to Dorian waking up in the Commander’s bed. He’d made an utter fool of himself, and while Cullen had teased him about it, he didn’t seem angry. At all.

 

“Com-” Dorian stopped himself mid way, “Cullen.”

 

“Yes, Dorian?” the man asked, beginning to pull on his armor. He was considering if he should do his hair, or if he was running too late to bother, It had been some time since he’d left it unstyled, and would certainly be a shock to anyone that saw it.

 

“I… I wanted to thank you,” Dorian said.

 

“What for?” Cullen asked. He kept an eye on the mage, but Dorian kept his back to him.

 

“For… I saw the note on your desk. About… my father,” he said, cautiously. “I wanted to thank you for… defending me.”

 

“It… it’s not a problem, Dorian,” Cullen said, searching for the right words. “I was happy to do it. And it was true. Skyhold is your home as much as anyone else’s. You deserve to feel safe here.”

 

“Safe,” Dorian said, then chuckled. “With the organization going after Corypheus and his blight dragon. Yes, I can see that now. How foolish of me.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Cullen said, finally dressed. He had a small mirror on a desk, and he looked into it to try and decide what to do with his hair. It looked rather like a shaggy mane, he thought. He’d really be living up to his moniker as the Lion of Skyhold if he went out like this.

 

“I do,” Dorian said, apologetically. “And..”

 

Something in Dorian’s voice made Cullen look over. The mage had sat up, and was looking at him.

 

“I… I’d like to talk to you about what happened at Redcliffe. Later, that is,” Dorian said. “When we both have time.”

 

Cullen smiled, and Dorian felt his heartbeat speed up. Damn the man. Damn the sunlight pouring through the hole in his ceiling, hitting those gorgeous curls like a halo, making him look absolutely radiant. Damn that sweet, soft smile.

 

“I’d like that,” Cullen said. He walked over, and Dorian was expecting the kiss this time. He cupped the Commander’s cheek, and Cullen laid a gloved hand over his. He pulled away with a smile, then turned his head to lightly kiss the mage’s palm. Dorian snorted and rolled his eyes, and Cullen laughed as he went to leave.

 

He paused going down the ladder, only his head above the loft as he looked over at Dorian.

 

“By the way,” he said, “The Inquisitor is looking for you.”

 

Dorian threw a pillow at his head, and Cullen ducked while laughing. Dorian found he was getting quite attached to the sound, and flopped back on the bed, looking at the sky through the roof.

 

Well, it certainly wasn’t the worst way he’d spent a morning.


End file.
